


A Magic Art

by jusrecht



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Relationship, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, and Stephen will give it in his own way, just in the background, set probably during Thor: Ragnarok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 01:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12545432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: Stephen tried to broach a delicate subject during one of their weekly visits. Set in theThor: Ragnaroktimeline.





	A Magic Art

**Author's Note:**

> A little idea that came to me after watching the movie.

 

“Thor was here.”

 

Stephen could see the way the words settled around Tony like a heavy mantel, or a curtain of iron. The way they bowed his shoulders and made everything about him look smaller. Defensive. Pained.

 

Words had their own unique brand of magic. They could lighten a heart or poison a soul at will. Stephen, whose magic had mostly been the wordless kind—a marriage of mind and will and shapes—always found the power of words fascinating, even a little daunting.

 

“Was he?” Tony’s tone was deceptively light. He was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of sweats, and he looked at home among Stephen’s books and armchairs. There had been a time when he made the visits in suits, crisp and perfectly tailored, not a line out of place. Stephen saw them as exactly what they were: armours made of silk and years of practice.

 

“In his defence, I brought him here. Coffee?”

 

Tony always made a face every time Stephen made the offer. He knew that Stephen had a stash of perfectly good Vodka hidden somewhere—but that was one of the perks of being a sorcerer. To create hidden places where no one else could touch.

 

Today, however, Tony accepted the mug without so much as a grimace or an eye-roll. He took a distracted sip, frowning, and said nothing.

 

Stephen considered his next words. He was not exactly skilled in this field of magic, especially after a life spent in looking down on other people.

 

“There have been some troubles in the other Realms. As I understand it, his own Realm was under attack. It’ll be some time before he can sort it out.”

 

For a long moment, there was no response. Then suddenly Tony looked up, his expression a mix of astonishment and incredulity. “Wait. Are you trying to make _excuses_ for him?”

 

“No, I’m trying to analyse his actions.” Stephen maintained his poker face. “Keep track of his movements and so on. You know, as the Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme, of course.”

 

“Of course,” Tony mimicked his tone, but the phantom weight had eased slightly from his shoulders. He seemed a little lighter, a little brighter.

 

“I’m only keeping you up to date. The state of the world and all.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Tony grinned behind the mug and took another sip. That was when he made a face. “This is terrible. Like seriously, heinously terrible.”

 

“You just can’t appreciate real coffee,” Stephen said dryly.

 

“Excuse me.” Indignation was beautiful on Tony’s face. “I’ve been an expert since I was fifteen, struggling under the yoke of injustice in MIT. This one professor, he totally had it in for me. Just because I’m a Stark and a genius and so ridiculously good-looking. Five assignments in one day.” He paused, looking at somewhere past Stephen’s shoulder. “He was here?”

 

“Yes, and I sent him on his way as soon as possible. He was in a hurry. The fate of Asgard was at stake.”

 

“See?” Tony rolled his eyes. “You’re doing it again. Making excuses for him.”

 

Stephen shrugged but did not resist a smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Tony Stark was a strong man. A year ago, when they had first met, he had been a broken man. Time healed and all that, and a strong man could always put himself back together when necessary—but having friends, knowing that he had not been abandoned out of sheer spite, certainly helped.

 

“When it’s time, he will return.”

 

“Oh, so you can see the future too?”

 

“Not ‘seeing’, exactly, but when the stars are aligned and–”

 

“Alright, stop. You know that kind of talk creeps me out.”

 

Stephen smiled innocently. “More coffee?” He waved toward the table, where a row of coffee-making apparatuses had suddenly materialised.

 

“Now we’re talking.” Tony jumped to his feet. “Sit there, Strange, and watch the master at work. What, all Robusta? No wonder it tastes like crap. Balance, my good doctor, and innovation—that’s the key to every success…”

 

Stephen settled into his armchair more comfortably and let Tony’s voice wash over him. Every now and then, he would pull out half-a-dozen varieties of coffee beans from some other hidden places. Another time, it was a Bunsen burner; then an electronic scale; a glass flask; _three_ glass flasks; an earthenware pot. Really, whatever Tony wanted.

 

Wong would accuse him of being overindulgent, _again_ , but well, smiles never hurt.

 

_**End** _

 


End file.
